


I Believe In You

by feetonground_headinclouds



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Murdervision Hug, garcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21935398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feetonground_headinclouds/pseuds/feetonground_headinclouds
Summary: HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ONE OF MY MOST FAVORITE PEOPLE AND MY GARCY MAMA. I hope your holiday is as special as you are. I hope it’s full of love, happiness and all the good things you deserve. Because you do deserve them!Love you lots!Prompt: Garcy Date 6mths after Chinatown where 2x11 and 2x12 didn’t happen.(Nixing the arrival of the alt Lifeboat wasn’t a pre-req, but I’m doing it anyway! And we’re also just gonna assume that Rufus was otherwise saved and/or never died.)*cracks knuckles* Let’s do this!
Relationships: Garcia Flynn & Lucy Preston, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Rufus Carlin/Jiya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	I Believe In You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Burgundy_In_Chaucer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgundy_In_Chaucer/gifts).



> HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ONE OF MY MOST FAVORITE PEOPLE AND MY GARCY MAMA. I hope your holiday is as special as you are. I hope it’s full of love, happiness and all the good things you deserve. Because you do deserve them!
> 
> Love you lots!
> 
> Prompt: Garcy Date 6mths after Chinatown where 2x11 and 2x12 didn’t happen. 
> 
> (Nixing the arrival of the alt Lifeboat wasn’t a pre-req, but I’m doing it anyway! And we’re also just gonna assume that Rufus was otherwise saved and/or never died.)
> 
> *cracks knuckles* Let’s do this!

I’ve been a soldier in the desert. I’ve seen maybe battles, escaped death by the skin of my teeth almost too many times to count….so why am I nervous?

It’s only Lucy.

‘Only?’ Lucy never has been and never will be an ‘only.’

_So why did you say that, Flynn?_

It’s just Lucy. ‘Just?’ Is Lucy a ‘just?’

Absolutely not. Never.

_So why did you say that, Flynn?_

This better not be a precursor to how this night is going to go.

I resist the urge to bare my teeth and growl at myself. Barely.

_It’s Lucy. The woman you’ve known long before she even knew you. The woman who jumped into a Lifeboat and offered you a way out. A reason to live. Gave you a reason to take that next step, to do the next right thing, even if it included a dash of the unthinkable._

She gave you a reason. She is that reason.

It seemed like everything changed this year. Lucy changed. I’ve seen it with his own eyes. Gone was the naïve Historian and in her place, something truly special.

A warrior.

A survivor.

Lucy.

_My Lucy._

My ‘impressive’ Lucy.

I remember the little smile she gave me when I said that to her in the small space of that truck, chasing after a Rittenhouse Agent in 1936.

_“You should know... The Lucy in that journal… she’s very, very impressive.”_

A knock at the door tears me away from the errant thoughts.

I clear my throat. “Come in,” I tell the polite trespasser.

Judging by the timid knock on the door, I figure it’s Jiya.

After situating my sport coat over the burgundy turtleneck sweater that will fend off the chill of an October evening, I turn to see that I was correct.

Jiya Marri walks into my room.

“Hey — I was just — umm — coming to ya know, check on you —” Jiya begins nervously.

“I’m fine,” I tell her.

“Are you?” she asks me with a dark brow lifted into her forehead.

A part of me misses the days where everyone here (besides Lucy, of course) was afraid of me.

They were much simpler times.

“Not you, too?” I ask with an eyeroll as Rufus appears behind Jiya.

“Got everything you need?” he asks me. “Your sanity, your —” He begins to ask as I slide a magazine into the gun I’ve just picked up.

“Yooooou might wanna leave your murderous rage here,” Rufus says to me with wide eyes.

I stuff the gun into my shoulder holster as I reply, “Rittenhouse is still out there. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Fair enough,” he relents with a nod.

“Do we need to give you the June George speech?” Jiya asks me.

Who is June George and why is she giving speeches?

“Who?” Rufus asks his significant other. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“June George? Regina’s mom from Mean Girls?”

“You’ve seen Mean Girls?”

Jiya snorts softly. “Yeah, along with pretty much every single Millennial apart from you apparently… ‘ _Do you guys need anything? Some snacks? A condom?’_ —”

I internally cringe and put my hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I appreciate the concern. But it will be fine,” I say as I usher them towards the door.

Jiya refuses to budge once she reaches the threshold. Her small, petite frame is suddenly against me with her arms wrapped around my body.

“May the Force be with you,” she tells me.

I just awkwardly pat her on the back, ignoring the obvious pop-culture reference.

“Good luck, man,” Rufus offers over his shoulder as he escapes my room.

I will the small prayer that everything will be fine into existence. We’ve come a long way. It’s amazing that only a couple of years ago, we were on the opposite sides. But now? Now, it hasn’t been the same since the alley. Things have been progressively changing all year, but something else happened that night.

That alley tore a piece of myself away. Seeing her in that much pain after losing her mother, her desperate desire to have all this nonsense end. The time travelling, the losses, the PAIN. This, I can understand. Almost all too well. Her body was vibrating with sobs as I held her to me. Her broken, unstable breaths fanning against my face as I dropped my forehead to hers.

If I could have, I would have willed a part of myself into her to patch the hole that had formed inside her, right then and there. I have been where she was. The only exception is that for a short time, I was alone in my grief. For two weeks, I wallowed. Like a pig in the mud, I wallowed. I didn’t want that for Lucy. As much as I hated her mother for being Rittenhouse, I could not hate Lucy for something she had no control over or knowledge of.

I just couldn’t hate her anyway.

How the hell could I?

So, I held her. I held her in my arms as if she were a precious vase. Her porcelain face cracked, evidence of her fight. But that precious glass vase turned into steel when she took my pistol and fired at Emma. She didn’t hit her mark but that night, but she showed everyone else that she was no longer playing around. This led to some lessons, after we’d both healed from the physical wounds… Lucy’s face and minor wounds were better within days. The faint white line on her cheek is a gentle reminder of the event. One she keeps covered with makeup. My wound took a bit longer to heal, the ugly circular scar is my own reminder.

But the emotional toll of trauma is much less forgiving. Lucy was quite happy to be left alone shortly after Chinatown. I honestly don’t blame her. The whole situation with Wyatt, her mother dying and learning who she was meant to be within the very organization she’s been fighting. It’s almost too much for anyone to handle, let alone to process. Like a never-ending avalanche or ocean current that just beats you down.

But she then started to blossom, like a flower in spring waking from its winter nap. Slowly, she regained her color like a black and white film being remastered. She started coming into the common area more often, being more social on trips rather than just a professor tossing information at the class.

She became a much brighter light fighting off the darkness.

But to me, that’s all she’s ever been. She just needed to figure it out herself.

So, when she asked me if I wanted to get dinner, who am I to decline? How can one possibly say ‘no’ to Lucy Preston?

One simply doesn’t.

Especially if that ‘one’ is me.

I take a deep breath before I step out into the hallway of the new safe house, something far different than the Bunker before it. I can’t say that I miss the grimy, dark kill-joy that the tin can was.

I gasp when I see what’s in front of me.

Lucy.

She looks different. Not that she’s never not looked radiant, but tonight she’s glowing. Her usually curly hair falls down in a straight and shiny curtain. A dash of color graces her lips, her make up flattering but not overpowering.

She looks —

She looks beautiful. A peacoat covers the black, long-sleeved dress that adorns her small frame.

“Lu —”

“Hi —” she greets me, her hazel eyes looking up at me.

We speak at the same time, and then fall silent. I see a blush that has nothing to do with makeup tint her cheeks.

“Are you ready?” I ask her after clearing my throat.

“I am,” she replies with a smile.

“Then after you, my lady.” I gesture forward with a hand and she takes the invitation, beginning the journey out of the safehouse.

“Have her back by midnight!” I hear Mason say from the kitchen as we walk through the space.

Lucy just blushes harder while I pretend not to have heard him.

We walk outside towards the government-licensed car that waits for us in the driveway that leads to this retrofitted warehouse. I open Lucy’s door for her and then gently close it behind her. I briskly walk to the other side of the car, hoping that my face doesn’t display the rollercoaster ride that my brain is on.

I take a deep breath before I open the door to my own side.

**The drive to the restaurant** was met with the usual heavy flow of traffic one can expect from the DC Metro area. But we arrive. I find us a place to park in the crowded lot and turn the car off. I look at Lucy who just looks at me with a small smile in return.

I just simply nod to her before getting out. I quickly move over to Lucy’s side of the car to open the door for her and help her out. When her boots meet the pavement, she stumbles but with my hand in hers she doesn’t get the opportunity to meet the concrete head-on.

“Oof!” she breathes out.

“I gotcha.” I hold onto her as she straightens herself back out.

“Thank you,” she breathes out.

She clears her throat awkwardly as she begins to right herself.

This is apparently one thing time has not healed for Lucy. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“You okay?” I ask her.

“Yeah — yes — fine,” she replies as she clears her throat. “Shall we?”

“We shall, indeed,” I return.

Together — and I’m still not used to this — we walk towards the front of the building. Lucy seems relaxed, but I still notice her eyes roaming everywhere like she’s looking for some threat.

That’s my job. It’s my job to keep her safe. And I don’t plan on failing.

If something happened to her —

I don’t know what I’d do.

In order to reassure her and myself, I place my hand on the small of her back, reminding her that I’m here and I’m not going to let anything happen to her. The look of relief on her face is almost instantaneous.

As we enter, I immediately take note of the mood-lighting. It’s not very well-lit in here, but it’s beautiful. The dining room is warm, earth-toned and seems to be shining.

“Name please?” We are asked by a red-lipped smile that belongs to the blonde woman behind the front desk.

“Flynn,” I respond.

“Party of two. And I’m seeing a note with a request to not be in the window, is that correct?”

“It is,” I respond.

It’s best to avoid any hazards. Sitting by a window is something I don’t enjoy at any rate. I don’t like the people in a restaurant looking at me while I eat, so let’s not add random strangers on the street to the list, too.

“Follow me, please,” she grabs two menus and with her high heels clicking against the hardwood floor, she leads us into towards one of the corners of the restaurant.

This table will do nicely. It’ll allow me to keep an eye out for any unsuspecting threats.

“Is this okay?” our hostess asks.

“Perfect, thank you,” I reply with a smile.an roasted nu

“Your server will be with you shortly. Have a great night.”

I pull Lucy’s chair out for her and then slip into the chair opposite her.

“Agent Christopher gave me the company credit card, so tonight’s meal has been brought to us by Uncle Sam.”

“Not a bad work perk,” Lucy responds with a smile.

“Not bad at all,” I respond with a smile of my own.

**Dinner went by effortlessly.** It was fun to see Lucy drop her guard, to be herself and to be out of herself. To see her outside of a cold academic environment and out of the path of flying bullets. To not have to worry about having to know the details that could make or break a trip.

To see her laugh so hard she snorted.

Just to see her be herself, even in this short amount of time, was worth all of it.

We walk out of the restaurant and Lucy breathes in a big whiff of the DC air.

“So, what now?” she asks me as we walk back to the car.

“Don’t want to go back yet?”

“No,” she tells me with a big smile. “Not yet.”

“I might have an idea,” I tell her as I open her door. 

“The World War II Memorial,” Lucy breathes out in wonder as we arrive. The lights that illuminate the plaza shine in her hazel eyes.

Lucy, unable to contain her excitement, leaps out of the car before I can open her door for her.

I just laugh as I rush to catch up with her.

“56 Pillars for each state and Territory. Arches for the Pacific and Atlantic —” she mutters aloud, not having the self-control to stop herself. Not that I would stop her, anyway. She walks over to the structure that hosts a portion of the famous quote by General Eisenhower before launching the D-Day attack that would turn the tides of war in favor of the Allies.

I just smile as she takes in this place like a child would take in Disney World. It’s endearing and dare I say it? Adorable. I listen intently as she speaks the words etched into the granite.

_“You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you…. I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill in battle.”_

What is written in stone is not the entire speech, but I suppose it’s the greatest hits. But to me, the monument is missing perhaps one of the most empowering lines:

_“The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.”_

The smile doesn’t leave my face when she turns to look at me. Her eyes are full of gratitude, wonder and…. Happiness. Her hazel orbs, even in the darkness of the night, are shining like a thousand suns.

“Could you imagine?” she begins as she walks towards me. “Being an American, Canadian or British soldier landing on those four beaches? 4,000 Allied lives lost.”

As she says this, she looks back to the wall that 4,000 gold stars hang on, signifying the loss of life that helped liberate Europe from the grasp of a madman.

“They knew what they were fighting for — or against.”

She turns back to face me then, her eyes staring back into mine. “Did you? Did you know what you were fighting for? I’m sorry. That was a really stupid question —"

I don’t hesitate for a moment before I answer.

“Always,” I tell her.

Sure, motivations change. They are fluid like a liquid. Money, morality or the simple fact that fighting is what I assumed I was only ever really good at. But I think most people fight because they care. Could they have an asinine thing to care for such as vanity or power, sure, but I think caring is pretty much the gist of it.

“I’m sorry for being so morbid,” she suddenly apologizes.

“No one ever said that history comes from happiness.”

“Some of it does. I like to think so anyway.”

I just smile at her. _I know you do, Lucy._

My hand flies up towards her in an almost impulsive, unconscious movement.

“Dance with me.”

“Here?” she says as she looks around the mood-lit plaza.

“Just as good as anywhere,” I say with a casual shrug.

With a small smile, she steps towards me and reaches her small hand towards mine.

My long-fingered hand seems to swallow hers.

I keep her at a respectable distance at first. If she wants to come closer, I certainly wouldn’t deny her, but it has to be her choice.

And she makes it. After a few moments of silent bliss, Lucy moves herself closer to me. I can’t help the gasp that escapes my mouth.

“Do you believe in fate? Destiny?” she asks into my shoulder.

I take a deep breath before I answer. “If you’d asked me a couple of years ago, I’d have said no. That ‘destiny’ and ‘fate’ were just excuses for someone who can’t or won’t choose.”

“And now?”

“Now, I’m not so sure. But there is one thing I know I believe in.”

“What’s that?”

I reach up to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, putting her beautiful cheekbone on display.

“You. I believe in you.”

Her eyes search mine, hazel staring into green. Back and forth they fidget, looking for something. I wish I could know what she’s thinking. Just because I’ve read her diary doesn’t mean I can read her mind. I feel like I’m stuck in a daydream when her face tilts up towards mine.

Then —

Then my cellphone rings.

“Dammit,” I breathe out.

Lucy just clears her throat. “You should — yeah —"

“ _Flynn, Rittenhouse just jumped. Southampton, 1912.”_

Only one thing was going on in Southampton in 1912. The world had its eyes on only one thing.

Could it —

Will it —

“On our way,” I finally manage to tell Christopher before I hang up the phone.

“Where?” Lucy asks me. “When?”

**FIN**


End file.
